Bedlam

by Keira Michelle Telford

A fire is roaring in the hearth, and a plush polar bear skin rug has been laid out in front of it. Candles adorn the mantel, the coffee table, and every other flat, raised surface. Beside the rug, there’s a neat pile of pillows and cashmere blankets, should either of them feel the desire to sleep.

  Silver tries to count the candles, but loses track at sixty-three.

  “Wow.” She spies a tray of tiny cakes and chocolates on a sideboard. “You didn’t have to do all this on my account.”

  “You must think I’m dreadfully silly.” Elena dips her head, concealing a blush. “I just want it to feel real, that’s all. Not so clinical, I suppose.”

  “It’s not silly.” Silver rubs her back. “It’s nice.”

  The door to the adjoining bathroom is open, scented candles leading a path to an ornate ceramic tub, rose petals all around. A bath has already been drawn, steam rising from it, and fresh towels are resting on a heated rail.

  “I thought you might like a hot bath.” Elena spots her eyeing the romantic effort. “I know the shower facilities here aren’t exactly conducive for relaxation.”

  “Thank you.” Silver pecks her on the lips.

  The gesture of thanks takes Elena by surprise, half expecting that as their agreement reaches its terminus, Silver might start to withdraw, offering only what physical affections are required of her and nothing more.

  “Take your time.” She smiles appreciatively, heading for a decanter of whiskey by the cake tray. “I don’t mind waiting.” She pours herself a shaky double measure. “God knows, I’ve waited twenty-five years already. I can spare a few more minutes.”

  She gasps as Silver’s hands slip around her waist, encasing her in warmth.

  “I’m gonna make it worth the wait.” Silver nuzzles her neck. “I promise.”

  She tenders one more kiss, then uncoils her arms and disappears inside the bathroom, rolling the math over in her mind. A twenty-five year dry spell? Holy shit. She’s never asked Elena’s age—never given it much consideration—but that makes the devastatingly beautiful doctor forty-five. Not that she looks much over thirty.

  Silver regards her own appearance in the bathroom mirror and flashes her violets, contemplating what kind of effect being activated will have on her own aging. She’s about to turn thirty-five, after all; youth is swiftly evaporating. Stripping off her clothes, she’s confronted with another aspect of her changing body: her swelling belly.

  It’s been several weeks since she’s had a good look herself, and there’s now a small but prominent pregnant bulge to her abdomen—a womanly curve that can no longer be ignored.

  “Jesus …” She strokes a hand over her baby bump, giving herself a light poke beneath her belly button. “That’s inconvenient.” She sighs, turning away from the mirror.

  For the first time, she notices how pretty the bathroom smells. The candles give it a warm, soft glow, and there are rose petals floating on the surface of the water in the tub.

  She’s being romanced, and she knows it.

  Though she’s never been a fan of bath bubbles and scented candles—or anything that she would deem ‘girlie shit’—she appreciates the effort. This isn’t going to be a night of heated, frantic fucking. Elena clearly wants something more meaningful; more emotional; more memorable. She wants to be loved.

  Mulling that over, Silver sinks into the hot, sudsy water. Elena’s expecting full access to her, and while she’d anticipated that the arrival of this moment might bring last minute panic, a rush of guilt, some self-doubt, or a sudden influx of shame for having effectively prostituted herself, she’s actually remarkably calm. In fact, at the prospect of letting Elena touch her, she’s excited. More than that, she’s turned on.

  She wants this, and she didn’t at all foresee that. She’d imagined having to fake her pleasure for the sake of pleasing Elena. She’d imagined closing her eyes and fantasizing about Ria while she was forced to bear the touch of Elena’s hands and mouth, and then faking an orgasm as soon as was realistically possible in an attempt to make the torment stop.

  But there’s no need for that now. Elena wants this to be real, and it is—for both of them.

  Accepting that fact for what it is, knowing that morning will bring an end to all this madness regardless, Silver finishes up and dries herself off, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her wet hair hanging loose.

  Elena is sitting on the sofa, swirling the dregs of her whiskey in her glass. The buttoned-up suit is gone. She’s wearing a lacy negligee beneath a short silk robe, her slender legs bare, her dainty feet resting on the coffee table. She looks up.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Silver drops the towel, watching Elena’s eyes rove over her, first lingering on her crotch, then locking on her pregnant belly.

  “I’m sorry about this.” Silver points to her stomach, cringing.

  “Don’t be.” Elena abandons the whiskey, beckoning her nearer. “It’s so erotic.”

  “Are you kidding?” Silver makes a face.

  “No.” Elena takes hold of Silver’s hips and pulls her up to the sofa, kissing her rounded belly. “Nothing’s more beautiful than a visibly pregnant woman.” She drops her kisses lower, pressing her face into Silver’s damp pubic hair, inhaling her, desperation taking over. “I need to fuck you.”

  “Not yet.” Silver moves a few inches back, peeling Elena’s hands away and tilting her head up. “I want to make love to you first.”

  “Make love?” Elena’s heart swells.

  “Yeah.” Silver kneels between her legs. “Is that okay?”

  She tugs open Elena’s robe and admires her form. The liberated doctor is naked beneath the gauzy fabric, her entire body on display. Her modest breasts jut out proudly, her nipples erect, her areolae puffy and swollen.

  Silver’s gaze drops lower. The pubic hair framing Elena’s sex is visible between her thighs: a neatly manicured triangle of curls. Their encounter in the white room had been much too abrupt and unceremonious; Silver hadn’t gotten a good look at her. Now, she lifts up the negligee and takes time to drink in the view, spreading Elena’s labia with her thumbs to get a better peek at her glistening pink flesh.

  She’s gloriously wet, her slit pulsing with anticipation.

  “I don’t need a computer to tell me how much you want this.” Silver jerks Elena’s hips forward, adjusting her position. “Or how much I want to give it to you.”

  She dips her head and begins kissing Elena’s inner thighs, working her way upward. When she reaches Elena’s core, Elena throws her head back, moaning softly. She slips her hands around Silver’s neck, weaving her fingers through Silver’s wet tresses, savoring every second of contact.

  She doesn’t last long.

  She tries to draw it out, but Silver’s skilled tongue affords her no respite, and when she feels two of Silver’s fingers easing inside her, opening her up, her clit sucked hard into Silver’s mouth, she lets herself go.

  Clutching the arm of the sofa for leverage—her other hand still anchoring Silver’s face to her core—she hooks her right leg around Silver’s neck, plants her left foot firmly on the floor, and starts rolling her hips in time to meet Silver’s penetrative assault on her sex, fucking Silver’s face with abandon.

  “You’re divine!” she cheers, her pelvic thrusts intensifying, signaling the approach of her climax, driving Silver’s fingers deeper with every lunge.

  She says plenty more, but her lost-in-the-moment compliments and exclamations are punctuated by grunts, groans, and wails, eventually dissolving into a series of rhythmic affirmations: “Yes, yes, yes …”

  Her entire body starts to shake, and as the crest of her orgasm hits, the affirmations are swiftly replaced with expletives.

  Until now, Silver’s barely heard her make any noise during sex. Whether afraid of being caught, or simply too uptight to allow herself complete and unbridled enjoyment, she’s always been so demure, her cries of pleasure strangled and hushed.

  But not now.

&n
bsp; The quivering doctor climaxes loudly, letting out one final moan as Silver slides both hands under her rump and lifts her hips up, locking mouth to cunt, lapping up her honey as it pours from her, sucking out every last drop.

  “Oh, my … fuck!” Elena clamps both legs around Silver’s head, very nearly losing consciousness before Silver releases her back to the sofa cushions.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  For a long time, Elena can hear nothing but the sound of her own panting, her body limp and unresponsive. She’s vaguely aware of being lifted into the air, her face pressed to warm, naked flesh, the beat of a heart beneath.

  Thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk.

  Moments later, she murmurs softly, feeling the heat from the fire on her bare legs and the thick, luxurious hair of her polar bear skin rug beneath her. Like a puppet on a string, she allows herself to be manipulated. Pulled into a sitting position, she feels the silk of her robe running over her arms.

  She’s being undressed.

  Still sitting, she feels a warm pair of hands glide up her body, pulling her negligee with them, and she raises her arms, her unfettered breasts bouncing free when they’re released from the clingy material.

  The same warm hands then lie her back on the rug, caressing every inch of her from shoulders to waist. She feels them on her breasts, cupping and kneading them, tugging on her erect nipples. Then, there’s more heat.

  She opens her eyes, looking down to find Silver’s mouth around one of her areolae, pinching the nipple between her teeth, biting and sucking on it. The other breast is covered by Silver’s hand, the nipple teased between two of her fingers.

  “I’m naked,” she purrs, writhing on the rug.

  “Mmm,” Silver moans her approval before releasing the nipple from her mouth. “Yes, you are.” She smirks. “Welcome back.”

  “I think you nearly killed me.” Elena clutches her forehead, her vision still blurry.

  “Good way to go, huh?” Silver wriggles on top of her, crotch to crotch and breast to breast, thieving a kiss from her. “A pleasure overload.” She rocks back and forth as they kiss, entangling their pubic hair, generating heat and friction.

  Overcome by this unexpected demonstration of enthusiasm, Elena wraps her legs around Silver’s waist, tilting her pelvis up, instinctively seeking to maximize contact. Even without direct stimulation, she can feel another orgasm building. Each time Silver thrusts against her, her clit is bumped and nudged, an undeniable wetness smearing between them. Then, she hears something incredible: Silver moans.

  Emboldened by this, she runs a hand over Silver’s back and rump, then over her hip and beneath her. She works through a small, wiry patch of hair, fumbling her way to Silver’s core, her overeager fingers slipping all over Silver’s slick, hot skin.

  Aiming anywhere and everywhere, she assaults Silver’s sex blindly, driving between her labia, jabbing at her soft flesh in search of her opening.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Silver stops moving and seizes Elena’s wrist, holding her still.

  Suddenly fearful that this is all an elaborate act after all, Elena’s brow creases with concern, wishing she hadn’t gotten ahead of herself, afraid of shattering the illusion.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you think you’re doing? Stuffing a turkey?” Silver tugs Elena’s hand away and rolls off her, laughing. “The aim isn’t to get as much as you can inside me in the fastest possible time.” She flops onto her back, pulling Elena with her. “Slow down.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tears fill Elena’s eyes. “It’s been so long. I—”

  Silver smothers her mouth with a kiss.

  “Sshhh.” She guides Elena’s hand back to her dripping sex. “Let’s try again.” She presses Elena’s fingers into her warmth. “Gently this time.”

  “You’re so wet,” Elena mewls, stroking her swollen folds. “Is this all for me?”

  “It is tonight.” Silver tenders her another kiss.

  Elena dips a single digit in her, then withdraws. Regaining her confidence, she repeats this a few times, then starts covering Silver’s body in kisses.

  Her breasts.

  Her stomach.

  Her cunt.

  “Oh, shit.” Silver watches Elena’s head bob between her thighs. “Don’t stop.”

  Enraptured by the smell of Silver’s womanhood, Elena peppers her gleaming skin with feather light kisses, intent on drawing this out for as long as possible. Not knowing when or if she might ever get this opportunity again—with Silver or any other female—she spends several minutes simply admiring Silver’s body.

  She commits every crease and fold to memory, along with the hue of her pink skin and the firm, engorged nub at the peak of her valley. Trying her best not to rush, she flicks the tip of her tongue over that nub, making Silver twitch, then she moves lower.

  Parting Silver’s labia with her fingers, she gazes upon the tiny slit concealed behind, watching a drip of honey trickle down it.

  She laps it up.

  “Fucking hell …” Silver murmurs, feeling a familiar pressure building in her abdomen already.

  Sure enough, the instant Elena pushes the flat of her tongue to Silver’s opening, Silver’s legs begin to tremble. Paying attention to her lover’s cues, Elena alternates between using the flat of her tongue and the tip, probing and licking until Silver erupts into her eager mouth.

  At the moment of her paroxysm, they both moan. Elena hums against Silver’s sex, inadvertently heightening the sensation, making Silver’s toes curl, and she hugs Silver’s thighs over her shoulders, wanting to feel every tremor and contraction.

  When it’s over, she rocks back on her heels, wiping her lips. “I’d forgotten how good it feels to make a woman come.” She kisses her way back up Silver’s body. “Was I any good? You can be honest.”

  “Well, truthfully …” Silver bends forward, grabs her, and pulls her into an embrace, grinning. “You can eat my pussy any day.”

  Her grin fades, the impossibility of the words striking them both in the same instant, the sentiment hollow, despite its initial sincerity.

  A silence invades.

  Elena snuggles up to Silver’s chest, absently swirling a finger around one of her nipples, lost in thought. When the nipple grows accustomed to her continuous ministrations and stops responding, she wets her finger and begins again, the evaporating moisture causing the areola to swell and stiffen once more.

  After a while, “Am I better than her?” she asks timidly.

  “What?” Silver frowns, dozing slightly, her brain taking a while to catch up. “Better than who? And at what?”

  “Abby.” Elena places her whole hand over the breast, massaging it. “Am I a better fuck than her?”

  After some momentary confusion, Silver recalls the incident outside the refectory and chuckles. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never fucked Abby.”

  Elena picks up her head. “But I—”

  Silver presses a finger to her lips, silencing her. “It was a tube of lip gloss. She found it on the floor, shoved it up her hoo-ha, and it got stuck.”

  “Oh.” Elena digests that, cringing when she realizes the implications of it.

  The jealousy she’d felt.

  The way she’d punished Abby.

  “How can you stand to be near me?” Her voice cracks, tears of shame spilling onto Silver’s chest. “I’ve behaved so despicably.”

  Silver wraps her arms around the sobbing doctor, holding her close. “You’re not the only one.” She caresses Elena’s naked body, finding a soft ass cheek and squeezing it, pulling Elena’s crotch against her hip.

  The silence returns.

  Stemming her tears, Elena wraps herself tighter, resting her hand on Silver’s mound, toying with her pubic hair. “Do you hate me for making you do this?”

  “You’ve never made me do anything.” Silver rolls onto her side, pulling Elena’s leg over her hip, positioning her for coupling.

  Elena grinds herself onto
Silver’s crotch. “Do you fancy me?”

  “You know I do.” Silver cradles Elena’s head in the crook of her arm. “You’ve seen it.” She engages her lips. “You’ve felt it.” She pulls back. “But I can’t have you.”

  “Because of the Russian?”

  Silver nods, groping Elena’s breast and planting kisses on her neck. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just my luck.” Elena laughs at her own misfortune. “After all these years of stringent abstinence, I end up falling for a woman who not only openly embraces her own sexuality, but also challenges me to accept mine, and she’s already spoken for.”

  Silver breaks off her kisses and locks eyes with her, needing to hear those words again. Did Elena just confess love?

  “It’s okay.” Elena smiles weakly, well aware of what she said. “I know you could never love me. I don’t expect—”

  “You’re wrong.” Silver hooks Elena’s chin and tilts her up into another kiss.

  The kiss is passionate and deep, their embrace becoming a tangled mess of limbs as their fingers find each other again.

  It’s vigorous.

  It’s ardent.

  Every move by one is reciprocated by the other: adding another finger, changing the angle of the thrust, or driving harder and deeper.

  “I want you,” Silver growls, grabbing a fistful of Elena’s hair, compelling her to make eye contact, watching telltale flecks of violet invade her irises, signaling the approach of another climax.

  In under a minute, they peak simultaneously, their eyes locked on one another.

  “I can’t believe I’m never going to see you again.” Elena sinks into Silver’s arms, panting against her chest.

  She’s fishing, and Silver knows it.

  “Don’t say never, Doc.” Silver strokes Elena’s cheek, kissing her hair, giving her a little hope, vague though it is.

  It’s enough.

  Elena feels a warm flush spread over her, the future holding a wealth of unspoken possibilities, but as swiftly as a wash of immense relief sweeps through her core, releasing a flock of butterflies from the pit of her stomach, so dread and dismay follows.